


Sleep

by theDeadTree



Series: Scott Ryder [6]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDeadTree/pseuds/theDeadTree
Summary: Scott can't sleep.





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post-endgame.

Scott tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that he was essentially using his sister as a human security blanket.

It was strange, how much safer he felt, knowing that she was sprawled out next to him, lightly snoring as she always had. It was normal. Familiar. A sound he’d been falling asleep to for years, back when they were kids sharing a room in a three-bedroom apartment; because Dad had needed a study more than they needed privacy. Scott had no idea how that excuse had managed to fly for as long as it did. He had just always accepted it without question. There had been a lot of things he’d never given much thought to back then. It was just the way things were. Dad had the authority on things like that. Being here, doing this again, it brought it all back. He wondered if Sara had the same wave of nostalgia as he did.

Probably not, because Sara was usually out cold the instant her head hit the pillow. It was a gift he didn’t share; and something he’d always envied about his sister.

She shifted slightly next to him, unconsciously pulling at the sheets, trying to wrap herself up in a cocoon of blankets like she always did. Scott, already having been left half exposed, gripped the covers, trying to reclaim at least some of them, easily imaging her reaction should he ever dare to complain about it.

 _You’re a big boy Scott,_ he could easily imagine her telling him. _You can take it. Besides, this was your idea._

That much was true; it _had_ been his idea. He’d insisted, for his own peace of mind. Mostly because every time he closed his eyes, he only heard her screams. After the fight over Meridian, that was all he could hear. It was a nightmare he’d had too many times over, one he’d woken up from – again – just a few minutes ago.

He needed to know she was okay, that she was safe. He needed to know it was over, because he sure as hell didn’t feel like it was.

With a small but thoroughly agitated sigh, he sat up, blearily looking around his quarters. He didn’t know what he was looking for, or whether he was looking for anything at all. Something he could use to distract himself, probably, though part of him knew he wasn’t going to find it here.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of bed and quietly made his way to the door, glancing back at Sara one more time before tiptoeing out into the hallway.

It was only when the door shut behind him did Scott realise that he had no idea what he was planning to do, or where he would go. For a brief moment, he considered heading to the galley and rummaging through their supplies for something sweet enough to distract him from reality, even just for a little while. Which would’ve been fine plan, if he hadn’t long since depleted his chocolate ration.

Curse his voracious sweet tooth.

He continued down the hall in something of a sleep deprived daze, grumbling quietly to himself about the sheer injustice of the universe, only to notice a faint light coming from behind the med-bay door. Scott’s eyes narrowed slightly, making his way over to it, leaning on the wall as the door swiftly moved out his way and he found himself staring idly at Lexi, who sat at her work desk with her back facing him, clearly absorbed in whatever she was analysing.

It shouldn’t have shocked him to find she was still awake. It wasn’t the first time Lexi had pulled an all-nighter to catch up on work – though she worked so much Scott was honestly at a loss to say what work she had to catch up on.

Lexi shifted slightly in her seat, but her eyes did not leave the datapad on her desk. “Do I _want_ to know what’s brought you here at this hour?”

Scott blinked several times at her sudden address and quickly sidled into the med-bay, shivering a little as he heard the door slide smoothly shut behind him.

“You’re still up?” he asked, his voice hoarse and croaky.

Lexi’s lips pursed slightly at the question, and she didn’t look at him. “Trying to run through some of the data we’ve managed to pull from Meridian.”

“Anything useful?”

“It’s _all_ useful, Scott,” she told him with a mildly irritated sigh. “But nothing immediately relevant to you, no.”

His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means, I know you don’t want to talk about the haemorrhaging.”

A small, crooked smile pulled at Scott’s lips as he gently eased himself down onto the nearest bed. “Wow. You’re really going to leave me alone about that?”

She didn’t look at him. _“Tonight,_ yes I will. Chasing you around the ship at this hour is about as appealing to me as it is to you.”

He pouted. “Why is it always me you have a problem with? You never seem to complain about Sara.”

 _“Sara_ seems to understand the severity of the situation, unlike you,” she shot back at him. “And she’s never fled and hidden from me in the cargo bay.”

“Once. That happened _once,”_ he argued. “And it’s worse for her, right?”

“That’s not the point here, Scott.”

“But you didn’t deny it. She’s in a worse situation than me.”

Lexi rolled her eyes dramatically and finally turned to face Scott. “Even if that were _true,_ it doesn’t mean _you’re_ fine. You can’t dismiss your own problems because someone else has it worse. And in any case, _Sara_ isn’t the one with three clinical deaths under her belt – you _need_ to stop doing that, by the way. I cannot stress that enough.”

Scott sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose, having heard this all before. A lot of the doctors fussing over him in the aftermath of the final fight with the Archon had expressed their shock and surprise at how he managed to not just survive being disconnected from SAM and interfacing with Remnant technology anyway, but also how he’d successfully managed to force himself to fight as well. He’d been plagued with countless questions at every available opportunity; he wished he could give a better explanation behind his miraculous survival beyond some vague allusion to inheriting the classic sheer Ryder stubbornness.

 _Thank you, Dad,_ he thought scathingly. _Just the family trait no one wanted._

“Has anyone ever told you how much of a royal killjoy you are, Dr T’Perro?”

Lexi was not amused. Scott didn’t know why he was surprised.

“I’m your doctor, not a party planner,” she pointed out bluntly. “If it stops you from killing yourself at every available opportunity, then so be it.”

_“Ugh.”_

“I _heard_ that.”

 He rolled his eyes. “Who says I kill myself at every opportunity, anyway?”

Lexi groaned in response. “Really? You went into cardiac arrest on Habitat 7-”

“Not my fault.”

“You _purposefully allowed_ SAM to kill you on the Archon’s ship-”

“To get out of a _trap.”_

“And I don’t even want to get into what happened to you in Khi Tasira.”

Scott shrugged nonchalantly. “It all worked out okay.”

“Final words of the overconfident.”

 _“Ouch,”_ he gasped, holding a hand over his heart in mock-hurt.

He caught the faintest glimpse of a smile pulling at Lexi’s lips, and was about to point it out with a euphoric grin when she swiftly turned away, returning her attention to her work.

“While I have you,” she began, carefully making sure not to look directly at him, “how are you feeling?”

Scott fought the almost overwhelming urge to groan. He knew where this was headed, and he really didn’t like it. At all.

“Are we turning this into a psychology appointment now?” he asked, his voice low and scathing.

Lexi’s impassive expression did not change. “Why not? You’re due.”

“Is there _any_ medical field you’re _not_ qualified in?”

“You’re trying to change the subject.”

Scott’s brow creased. “Is that going in your notes?”

“Everything goes in my notes, Scott,” she reminded him dryly, clearly in no mood to deal with his antics. Scott honestly couldn’t blame her. Everyone was tired these days. “Are you still sharing your quarters with Sara?”

He gritted his teeth and looked away. “Look, there’s not- …there’s nothing _Freudian_ going on. She’s new to the team and needs space, and familiarity. I’m familiar. Separate quarters give her space. It’s practical.”

That earned him a not at all convinced thoughtful hum. Scott’s mouth went dry as he struggled to think of something else he could say, something that would explain what exactly he’d been thinking without making himself sound completely insane.

“I- I just…” he began, awkwardly stumbling over his words as he struggled to form a coherent sentence, “I need to know she’s safe. That’s all.”

“Your sister is not your responsibility,” Lexi told him flatly. “She’s an adult, and more than capable of looking after herself. You need to accept that.”

His lip curled in response. “So, the entire damn Heleus Cluster can be my responsibility, but somehow my sister doesn’t qualify? She was _tortured._ Because of _me.”_

Lexi’s expression hardened somewhat. “You’re quick to blame yourself.”

“Yeah, well, it’s an easy thing to do when something’s your fault,” he pointed out dryly. “I was reckless.”

 _Reckless._ Scott winced as it left him, knowing it had always been Dad’s favourite word to describe him. Too many memories of too many arguments he’d overheard came flooding into his mind with nothing to stop them. He gripped the bed he was perched on tightly, trying desperately to stay in reality, rather get swept away by a sea of unwanted memories of his parents struggling to decide how to deal with him.

Lexi’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”

 _“My_ memory flash, _my_ bad plan, _my_ lack of foresight, _my_ sister. Equals, my fault.”

“You can’t have known what would happen.”

“How does that make anything better?” he shot back at her. “It doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t change the fact that it _happened.”_

There was a brief pause as Lexi considered his words, and then;

“You’ve always blamed yourself for things that were out of your control,” she observed, glancing carefully over her notes.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You had the same reaction to your father’s death,” she pointed out dryly. “You blamed yourself for it. You still do.”

Scott turned away, fixing his eyes upon a single point on the floor and refusing to look anywhere else, his fingernails digging into his skin. It was old, familiar, something he used to default to every time his father cornered him and let loose one of his classic lectures. Something to focus on other than his father’s furious voice, something he could use to hide the fact that he was flushed with anger.

Typical teenager response, that.

Scott didn’t know what else to do. His father had never really taken to treating him like an adult, so how was it surprising that he failed to act like one? He was _twenty-two,_ for Christ’s sake.

_Twenty-two._

How could that simultaneously feel so old and yet so young at the same time?

He should have his life together by now. He should know what he was doing. He should be past that part where he was fumbling blindly between adolescence and adulthood. This, here… Andromeda, being Pathfinder, it should’ve helped. Given him some sense of direction, of purpose. And it had. For a while.

But the Archon was dead now. They had secured several outposts, and managed to settle Meridian. What was left, after that? Having to settle everyone in Heleus had given him a direction. Now he didn’t even have that. Now all he was really doing was drifting aimlessly, waiting for something else to happen, waiting for orders he knew would never come.

He wasn’t used to having this kind of autonomy. Wasn’t used to not having an authority figure to look to. And he certainly wasn’t used to _being_ that authority figure.

 _This is your situation now,_ he could easily imagine his father admonishing him. _Accept it. Move on._

He sighed. Nothing ever changes.

“Yeah,” he murmured after too long. “Well. Like I said. Recklessness. I assumed it was safe, after Dad managed to power down the atmosphere processor. I didn’t _think.”_

“If that’s the case, neither did your father.”

“It wasn’t _Dad_ who broke his helmet and almost suffocated to death.”

“And yet it was his decision that saved you,” Lexi reasoned, clearly tired of this argument.

In that moment, Scott couldn’t blame her. _He_ was tired of this argument. _Everyone_ was tired of this argument. There was a reason they had all made a silent but collective decision to never bring up Alec Ryder in casual conversation, because it always ended like this.

“A shocking development no one saw coming,” he said with a sigh. “Turns out Alec Ryder was capable of caring after all. _There’s_ a universe-altering discovery if ever there was one.”

He sounded so bitter.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it.

“Well,” he said with entirely forced cheerfulness as he got to his feet and headed once again for the door. “This has been _enlightening,_ but I’ve just remembered how late it is and I should, uh, try the sleeping thing again.”

Lexi didn’t seem to mind his abrupt end to the conversation and simply nodded, casually reminding him that she was always there if he needed to talk as he made a hasty exit from the med-bay.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to _think._ Lexi always had this uncanny ability to get under his skin. He couldn’t tell if it was just her, or anyone who encouraged him to open up about his feelings. Maybe it wasn’t anyone else at all – maybe it was just him. He couldn’t tell anymore.

Sara was sitting up with her arms folded and looking distinctly unimpressed by the time Scott finally stumbled back into the Pathfinder’s quarters. Scott didn’t want to think how long she’d been up; how long she’d been patiently waiting for him. Was it so much to ask that he could get away with wandering around the ship at night without anyone looking at him like a concerned parent?

No one treated Gil this way.

“What time do you call this?” she asked, eyebrows raised critically. Her voice was low and cold, too reminiscent of Dad.

Scott rolled his eyes dramatically and shuffled further into the room, ignoring the door as it slid shut behind him. He didn’t want to think about Dad. Not now. Not _ever._

“I call it late,” he answered listlessly. “You should be asleep.”

Sara ignored that. “What were you doing?”

“What I do on my own ship isn’t your concern,” he shot back just as coldly.

“You’re my little brother-”

“You’re a grand total of one minute older than me,” he pointed out harshly, slipping back into the bed as he did so. “Stop acting like it means anything.”

Sara’s lips pursed at his rebuke. “Wow. Okay. Someone’s in a bad mood.”

“Can’t _imagine_ why that would be, what with it being spectacularly late at night and all.”

She ignored that. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling the old _grumpy teenager_ routine.”

“And _I_ can’t believe _you’re_ still trying to be Dad,” he said with a sigh, gesturing at her. “Yet, here we are.”

She rolled over so her back was facing him. _“Someone_ has to be.”

Now he’d gone and made her mad. Scott couldn’t say why he was being so short with her. Was it just because he was tired, or was there something else at play here?

Finally, he fell back against the bed with a heavy sigh. “I was talking to Lexi.”

“Ah. Yes. Nothing like a psychologist to carefully shepherd Scott Ryder through one of his famous existential crises.”

 _“Haha,”_ he drawled in response. “You know I’ve got the monopoly on being funny, Sara.”

“Since when?”

“Since always. You’re the responsible one. I’m the funny one.”

“You can’t just decide that,” she argued.

“I can. I did. All your jokes are terrible.”

“My jokes are great. All you’ve got is dry snark.”

“Which is _funny.”_

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Scott.”

He sighed wistfully. “Oh well. But you know what?”

“What?”

“At least I’ll always be the pretty one.”

He gasped in pain when she slammed her elbow into his gut.

“Holy- …the _hell,_ Sara?” he wheezed.

“Oh, _sorry,_ did I hurt you? Have I bruised your delicate porcelain skin? Do you need your beloved to kiss it better?”

“Yeah, you’re still not funny.”

“I don’t know… I’m laughing.”

He groaned. “Sara?”

“Yes?” she called back sweetly.

“Get out.”


End file.
